Reserved For Murder

by Kevin Hopkins

  ‘Maybe, but I kinda doubt it,’ Grant said, looking at the match stick. ‘There’s no writing or marks on it at all. I would think all wooden matches are pretty much the same, no? Pretty uniform in length and size. Would one brand of match differ from another?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Millar said. ‘Let’s say it was Travis that did this. Wasn’t he at the feast last night? He served Sooleawa her meal, didn’t he?’

  ‘He did. But after dinner, Barry looked for him and couldn’t find him,’ Grant said. ‘Remember when he came to the band office last night, Barry said he looked for him for quite some time with no luck.’

  ‘Right, he said he was out having a smoke,’ said Penner.

  ‘Okay, so there’s a chance he may have had time to do it. And a possible, though flimsy motive. But we don’t really know for sure a crime was committed.’ Grant paced as he spoke. ‘I’m ninety percent certain one has been, but, until we get a chance to talk to Sammy or see if he wrote a note, we can’t be one hundred percent sure.’

  ‘So, we should head to the hospital, then,’ said Millar. ‘First, though, I think you have to try and clean your shoe better. You really don’t smell very good,’ he said to Grant.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Penner, Millar and Grant walked through the doors of the hospital emergency ward and looked around for anyone they might know. They saw Sarah and her mom sitting in the waiting room. Nearby, Sooleawa leaned against the wall, talking on her phone. When she saw them, she motioned them over, hanging up her phone and putting it in her purse.

  ‘How’s Sammy doing?’ Penner asked.

  ‘He’s stable, but still unconscious. The doctors have him on some oxygen and they have an I.V. in his arm. He’s hooked up to some other machine, too. Checking his vital signs, I think. It’s been a bit much for Mrs. Greycrow. She was in his room earlier but she didn’t like seeing him like that.’

  ‘Do you know if they found a note on him?’ Millar asked, glancing over at Sarah and her mom. Sarah saw them and waved.

  ‘They did. It was folded up in his back pocket. I think Mrs. Greycrow has it.’

  ‘I guess the Chief was right,’ Penner said.

  ‘Pardon?’ Sooleawa said, looking over at Penner.

  ‘Nothing,’ Penner said. ‘Where is the Chief?’

  ‘He decided to stay back at the reserve. He said he had some things to take care of. I think he wanted to contact the media again. Always working.’

  ‘How are you doing, Sarah?’ Grant asked, placing an arm around her shoulders as she walked over to them. ‘Your mom okay?’

  ‘We’re alright, all things considered,’ Sarah said. ‘Mom’s been crying off and on, but she’s holding up pretty good.’

  ‘Are you hungry? Thirsty?’ Grant asked. ‘There’s probably a cafeteria here somewhere.’

  ‘I could go for a pop, thanks,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Anyone else?’ Grant asked. ‘I assume you want a coffee?’ he said to Penner.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Penner said. ‘Want some money?’

  ‘I got it,’ Grant said. ‘Sooleawa? Millar?’

  ‘Coffee would be great, thanks. One cream,’ Sooleawa said.

  ‘I’ll get a coffee. Actually, I’ll come give you a hand,’ Millar said. He turned to Sarah’s mom. ‘Would you like anything from the cafeteria, Mrs. Greycrow?’

  ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

  ‘Right, be back in a bit,’ Grant said, leading Millar and Sarah in search of a cafeteria.

  ‘I’m just going to chat with Mrs. Greycrow,’ Penner said.

  ‘No problem. I have to make another phone call,’ Sooleawa said. ‘I’ll just be over here.’

  Penner sat down next to Mrs. Greycrow. ‘Mrs. Greycrow, I’m Detective Sue Penner. I work with Constable Grant in Ottawa.’

  ‘Nice to meet you. Sarah’s told me a lot about you already,’ said Mrs. Greycrow, patting Penner on the leg. ‘Thank you for finding my boy’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Penner said, squeezing Mrs. Greycrow’s hand. ‘I hope he makes a full recovery. Sooleawa said that Sammy had written a note?’

  Mrs. Greycrow opened her purse and pulled out a folded up sheet of paper. She handed it to Penner, who unfolded the page and read over the note.

  ‘Mom, Sarah, I am sorry for doing this, but Johnny’s death really got me thinking. I just can’t continue living, knowing our conditions here are never going to improve and no one seems to care. I hope you forgive me as I go to my second life with Dad, my grandparents and all our other relatives. And I hope to see Johnny again. Love you. Sammy’

  ‘Does this look like it was written by Sammy?’ Penner asked, looking back over the note.

  Mrs. Greycrow looked at Penner. ‘It was in his pocket. Who else would have written it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Penner said, carefully. ‘I just want to make sure you think it looks like his handwriting.’

  ‘I think so,’ said Mrs. Greycrow. Her brow furrowed as she considered what Penner had said. ‘Sammy didn’t write too much, but he did write me this poem. I’ve carried it with me since he wrote it last year.’ She opened her purse again, moving around some of the contents, pulling out another sheet of paper. She handed it to Penner. ‘It’s really not a very good poem,’ she said with a smile. ‘But it means a lot to me. He wrote it for my birthday.’

  Penner looked at the poem, smiling when she finished reading it. ‘It’s cute,’ she said. ‘They do look pretty similar, don’t they?’

  ‘I think so, but my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. I have a hard time seeing small print these days,’ Mrs. Greycrow said.

  ‘Happens to all of us as we age,’ Penner said. ‘Do you mind if I hold onto these for a bit? I’d like one of my colleagues to have a look at them.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mrs. Greycrow said hesitantly. ‘Please be careful with them.’

  ‘I promise—nothing will happen to them,’ Penner said. ‘Do you mind excusing me for a minute? I just have to make a phone call.’

  ‘Of course. I should just run to the washroom,’ Mrs. Greycrow said, standing up and stretching her back. ‘If you see Sarah before I’m back, can you let her know where I am?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Penner replied as Mrs. Greycrow walked off to find the washroom. Penner pulled out her cellphone, checking to see if she had a signal. ‘Finally,’ she said, dialing.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Captain, it’s Penner.’

  ‘Hi, Sue. What’s going on? I thought you were off today.’

  ‘I am, sir. I’m still out at the reserve with Grant and Millar. Actually, I’m at the local hospital right now.’

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’m fine. We found one of the local boys unconscious in the woods this morning. Possible hanging, but we’re not sure. Well, truth be told, we’re pretty sure it wasn’t, but we need to be positive.’

  ‘Possible hanging that isn’t a hanging? I don’t follow.’

  ‘The boy was found with a rope around his neck and the other end of the rope was attached to a broken branch, but, well, we’re thinking it may have been staged. Which is why I’m calling, actually.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I was wondering if we could send another couple of notes over—have McGee take a look again.’

  ‘You know, your timing is actually pretty impressive. He’s here right now. Just a sec. McGee, if Penner sends you a couple of documents to compare, how long do you need to go over them? I’ll ask. How long are they?’

  ‘Not long—maybe half a dozen lines?’

  ‘Half a dozen lines each. Twenty minutes? So, there you go. Send them over and he can get you an answer in the next half hour.’

  ‘Thanks, sir. And thank McGee for me. I’ll go find a fax machine.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘That’s it for now. Thanks, sir,’ Penner said, hanging up the phone. She surveyed the waiting room and noticed a hall that seemed to
lead to a reception desk. Mrs. Greycrow hadn’t come back yet, and Sooleawa was occupied on her phone, so she quickly stood and walked down to the desk. An older nurse, wearing scrubs covered in cartoon cats, sat behind a computer.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the nurse asked, continuing to type.

  ‘Do you have a fax machine here I can use?’

  ‘Sorry, dear. We’re not a stationary shop. There’s a place down the road.’

  Penner reached into her purse and pulled out her badge. ‘Police business,’ she said, holding up her badge. She didn’t like playing the cop card, but it wasn’t a lie.

  ‘Around back here,’ the nurse said, not looking up from the computer screen. ‘But stay out of the way. Things can get hectic in a hurry.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Penner, walking around the desk.

  ‘No problem.’

  Penner looked around until she saw the fax machine sitting on a shelf. She placed the two pages on top of the machine and typed in the fax number. The machine sucked the pages in, made some odd sounds, and sent the pages out the other side. She watched the display on top of the machine until it changed from ‘sending’ to ‘received’. She grabbed the papers and walked back around the desk again. ‘Thanks again,’ she said to the nurse who just ignored her. ‘Friendly,’ she said under her breath as she walked back to the waiting room, noticing that the others had returned.

  ‘Coffee?’ Grant said, passing her a Styrofoam cup.

  ‘Cheers,’ Penner said, taking a sip. ‘I appreciate it—but, man, that’s awful.’

  ‘Well, I guess hospital cafeteria coffee isn’t quite the same as the fresh roasted coffee you got used to over the last couple of days,’ Grant said. ‘I can get you something else, if you want.’

  ‘No, I’m still going to drink it. It’s just not very good is all,’ Penner said.

  ‘You’re something else,’ said Grant shaking his head.

  ‘I try,’ Penner said. ‘So, I just sent McGee the suicide note and another example of Sammy’s writing. We should have an answer in the next half an hour as to whether Sammy wrote the note or not.’

  ‘Can I see them?’ Millar asked, taking the two pages from Penner. He looked at the two side by side. ‘These kinda look the same, you know. With the note that was found on Jonny, you could definitely tell he didn’t write it, based on his book report. But these? I’d be inclined to say they were written by the same person.’

  ‘Really?’ Grant said. ‘Let’s see?’ Millar passed him the two papers.

  ‘Look at how he writes his y’s and g’s,’ Millar said. ‘He does quite a large flourish in both. Same in the note and the other page.’

  ‘They do look alike.’ Grant sounded disappointed. He read over the note again. ‘Maybe he did try to kill himself.’

  ‘Well, once we hear back from McGee, we should have a better idea. But right now, I’m really confused,’ Millar said.

  ‘Wait,’ Grant said, eyes scanning over the note. ‘Sarah, does Sammy know how to spell Jonny’s name?’

  ‘What? Of course he does. He’s not stupid,’ said Sarah. ‘They’ve been best friends forever.’

  ‘So he wouldn’t spell it J-O-H-N-N-Y?’ Grant asked, looking back at the note.

  ‘No way,’ Sarah said, shaking her head. ‘Jonny got really pissed if you put an H in his name. He liked the fact that his name didn’t have an H—made him feel special.’

  ‘Look at the note,’ Grant said, passing it back to Millar.

  ‘Well, I’ll be,’ said Millar. ‘Good catch.’

  ‘Still, maybe if he wasn’t thinking clearly, he could have spelled it wrong,’ Grant said. ‘At least, that’s what could be argued in court. We really need to talk to him. Or hear back from McGee. When’s he supposed to call?’ he asked Penner.

  ‘Another ten or fifteen minutes, so we’ve got a while to wait,’ Penner said. ‘Anything we should be doing? This sitting around is killing me. Are we missing anything?’

  ‘I guess one of us could stay here, in case Sammy wakes up. The other two could head back to the reserve and try to talk to Travis. Maybe he can tell us exactly where he was last night between dinner and the time we saw him at the band office,’ Grant suggested.

  ‘Travis—that reminds me,’ interrupted Sarah, ‘I remember one time he was helping out down at the drop-in centre. He had each of us write a short story,’ she continued. ‘Jonny had written a story about going hunting or something. Anyway, at the end of the day, we all gave Travis our stories, so he could go over them that night and give them back to us the next day. The next day, he gave each of us our story back, and on the front he wrote some notes. On Jonny’s, he wrote “Great job, Johnny”, but he added an H. Jonny got so mad, he threw his paper on the ground and stormed out. I think that was the last time he went to the centre.’

  ‘I forgot you said Travis helped out down there from time to time,’ Millar said to Grant. He turned back to Sarah, ‘Did your brother ever do any writing with Travis when he was there?’

  ‘Yeah, quite a bit,’ said Sarah. ‘I think he’s helped out five or six times that Sammy was there. He actually kept one of Sammy’s stories a couple of weeks ago—said he really liked it and wanted to send a copy to his granddaughter back in Jamaica.’

  Millar looked at Grant and Penner and raised his eyebrows. Pulling them aside, he said, ‘So, Travis had access to Sammy’s writing. Could have used it as a sample when writing the suicide note. I think you’re right—we need to find Travis and ask him a few questions.’

  ‘Why don’t the two of you head back to the reserve,’ Penner suggested. ‘I’ll hang here with Sarah and her mom—see if Sammy wakes up. If I hear anything from McGee, I’ll give you a ring.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Millar said. ‘Hopefully you hear from him soon.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Millar said to Grant as they pulled into the reserve. ‘There’s got to be a dozen different news stations here,’ he said, seeing all the media trucks parked along the side of the road outside of the band office.

  ‘Isn’t that the reporter from Ottawa, Arden Wall?’ Grant asked, as they found a spot to park behind a news van. ‘Why on earth would he be here?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Millar replied, getting out of the car and walking towards the scrum of reporters surrounding the Chief. ‘Must be doing another press conference.’ They nudged their way into the mix of reporters and residents who had converged to hear the Chief speak.

  ‘Sammy Greycrow was a great, young member of our community and he will be dearly missed,’ the Chief said. ‘Once again, this is the second young member of our reserve that has killed himself, in just the past two days, because of the deplorable conditions here. Our youths’ eyes have been opened. They have seen that the government isn’t willing to help our people in our time of need and they don’t see any other way out. All we are asking is for the government to send aid as soon as possible, so we can correct our drinking water issues before any other member of our community decides death is the only solution. Thank you all for coming.’

  ‘Did he just say Sammy was dead?’ asked Grant in disbelief as he watched the Chief start to walk away, followed by a few reporters who were anxious to ask questions and get their shots for the six-o’clock news.

  ‘Sure sounded like it, didn’t it? He knows he isn’t dead, doesn’t he?’ Millar said. ‘Oh great.’

  ‘Detective Millar? I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Arden said, approaching with his camera man in tow.

  ‘Arden,’ Millar gave him a wary nod. ‘What brings you out here?’

  ‘The station got a call from the Chief. He told us that two young men had killed themselves because of the water conditions on the reserve,’ Arden said, his camera man focusing on Millar to capture his expression. Millar remained stone-faced—he knew better than to give Arden anything. ‘My boss figured it would be a good story. And hopefully some of the politicians back home will see the report and pay attention. I
f nothing else, could be good for ratings.’

  ‘That sounds more like it,’ Millar said.

  ‘And what are you doing out here?’ Arden asked.

  ‘Just visiting.’ Arden didn’t need to know he was here helping Grant, who was helping out because the band police were understaffed. The less information given the better.

  ‘Penner here, too?’ Arden asked.

  ‘Don’t see her, do ya?’ Millar said. ‘Excuse us, we have to have a word with the Chief.’

  ‘Chief Ravenclaw must have called every news team in a two-hundred mile radius,’ Grant commented as they turned their backs on Arden and walked after the Chief.

  ‘Yeah, no kidding. It’s like his own little propaganda machine,’ Millar said. ‘I can’t believe he would tell the media that Sammy died to try and get sympathy. What if one of Sammy’s family or friends sees this?’

  ‘Well, lets go ask him,’ Grant said, seeing the Chief walk into the band office. Entering quickly behind him, they saw Travis at his desk. Chewie sat at his feet, gnawing on a bone.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Millar asked, barely containing his anger. ‘You’re actually reporting that Sammy died?’

  ‘Didn’t he?’ the Chief asked, feigning innocence. ‘I thought he had passed away at the hospital.’

  ‘Not at all—he’s very much alive,’ said Millar. ‘Why would you have thought he died? Where did you hear that?’

  ‘Sooleawa called me earlier. I must have misunderstood what she said,’ the Chief said, staring down Millar. ‘Anyway, no harm, no foul.’

  ‘Really? What if one of his family members sees the report on the evening news? Don’t you think that could cause some harm?’ Millar asked.

  ‘If that happens, I’ll apologize,’ the Chief offered, leaning back against a desk and crossing his arms. ‘Besides, if Sammy pulls through, then his relatives will be too relieved to get upset, right? And if he doesn’t, then I didn’t do anything wrong. Look, Detectives,’ he uncrossed his arms and pointed first at Grant, then at Millar, ‘I’m just doing my job, and my job is to get the best for the reserve. If two boys died or tried to kill themselves and they have notes in their pockets saying it’s because of the water, well, I think the public has a right to know, don’t you?’